“We could try talking to them,” I blurt, raising several eyebrows among the group as I explain my thinking. “Valoria, you could send a coalition aboard to find out what they want with us. Or at least one person. I’ll go.”
Valoria is quiet, looking across the water at the ships as she considers my idea. “It seems rather risky, even given their behavior in Lullin...” she says at last.
“It’s not a risk,” I say at once. That raises even more eyebrows. “We don’t have any risks left to take. The ships will be on top of us before we know it, and we don’t have enough people or weapons to challenge them in a fight. There’s no running, and there’s no winning.” I glance toward the horizon, where the ships loom larger with each passing moment. “Trying to reason with them is our only move.”
“All right,” Valoria agrees, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “We’ll try it. But I’m coming with—”
“No!” several people say in unison, shouting her down.
“Fine,” she bristles, her eyes bright.
“I’m going with you, sweet sister,” Simeon says firmly, glancing between me and Danial. “But our general should stay here, to protect the queen.”
“Agreed. But I’m coming, too,” Jax jumps in, hurrying to my side. “And, Majesty, if this doesn’t go as planned...” He meets Valoria’s gaze and, drawing his favorite sword, hands it hilt-first to her. “Kill every last one of these bastards for us.”
“You have my word,” Valoria says, accepting the blade. “But you’ll be back at my side before you can miss me.”
Jax pulls Valoria’s hood up over her head, concealing her face so she won’t be such an easy target, though there’s really no need in the absence of her crown. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
I turn away from them, my stomach in knots as doubt and hope war within me. They both sound sure the other will survive. It’s the kind of certainty I should have had all this time about Meredy. Surely she found her sister. Surely she, Elibeth, and Lysander are well away from the city now. Meredy’s smart. Smarter than me, and more cunning, less reckless. She’ll know places where they can hide.
Suddenly, I’m anxious to get back to shore. I’ll see her again. Iwillfind her, if she doesn’t find me first.
One of the sailors hands me a piece of torn sail, drawing me from my thoughts. Reluctantly, I push Meredy to the back of my mind and inspect the frayed cloth. The fabric is weathered and stained, but still white enough not to be mistaken for anything but the peace it’s meant to represent.
Once it’s been hoisted, there’s nothing to do but wait for the Ezorans to kill us or join us.
***
To my surprise, the Ezorans don’t have the heads of their victims decorating the bows of even a single ship. It feels more like years ago than months when Azelie told me that gory detail. She also assured me they have a penchant for experimenting with dark magic, and if that’s true, our blades won’t be much use if they decide to wield their mysterious powers against us.
Still, as the first of their ships draws alongside us, I absently put a hand on the hilt of my sword. Simeon gently elbows me in the ribs as he, Jax, and I wait for the gangway to be lowered, and I drop my hand to my side.
They could have fired on us or used their powers long before now, I remind myself as I study the faces of the warriors on the Ezorans’ ship. Their pale skin—paler than I remember, even—seems almost ashen beneath the charcoal-dark tattoos of intricate dots and swirls that grace their faces and arms. Many are sweating profusely, too, no doubt miserable in their rich furs and leather even with the cool sea breeze providing some relief.
A woman who looks to be in her twenties, her white-blond hair half in braids, breaks away from the rest, surveying us imperiously.“Come. We must speak,” she commands in Kanon. “We will keep our swords from your throats. For now.” Silver rings set with gems flash in the morning sun as she beckons us with a curl of her fingers.
As I prepare to cross the makeshift bridge laid down between the ships, Kasmira struggles to hold Nipper’s lead. The dragon seems eager to accompany me, Jax, and Simeon, completely unaware of the curious—and, in some cases, hungry—stares that the Ezorans are giving her.
My knees seem to dissolve as I make my way slowly over the bridge. It’s not the warriors and their extensive collection of pointy objects that worry me, but the precariousness of walking a thin line where the ocean waits on either side to swallow me up if I make a single misstep.
I meet the blond woman’s eyes in a challenge as I walk. She’s clearly their leader, and I want her to know I’m not afraid. At least, not of her.
As I step onto their ship, I feel the weight of my necromancer’s pin against my chest. It makes me square my shoulders and stand taller. I don’t reach for my sword. Instead, I face the blond woman and offer her my hand.
“I’m Odessa of Grenwyr. Master necromancer. And these are my companions.” Turning, I gesture to Simeon and Jax on either side of me and continue the introductions. “We’re here to speak on behalf of Her Majesty, Queen Valoria Juline Wylding. Ruler of Karthia.”
For a moment, the Ezoran leader regards me in silence. I leave my hand out in offering. I don’t think I’ve ever had so many people stare at me quite this intensely, even when I killed my first Shade.
At last, after exchanging a glance with her companions, she nods and says, “Well met, Odessa of Grenwyr. I am Orsa, the Exalted One of Ezora.”
“Is that like... a queen? Or more like a nun or a priest?” I’m not sure if I should be asking that, but then, I’m not sure of anything in this situation.
Orsa frowns. Her pearly blue eyes, which I have to admit are quite beautiful, narrow as she regards me. “I am,” she says at last, “more like a queen.” I think I see a hint of a smile cross her face, but the moment I blink, it vanishes.
She reaches toward me, apparently willing to take my hand at last. But before our fingers can touch, her eyes widen and she brings her hand to her mouth instead. A violent coughing fit shakes her, and when she’s finally able to stand tall and face me again, her fingers are covered in black goo.
Cold washes over me as I realize I almost touched the hand of someone sick with the black fever. I cross my arms, resolving not to touch anything on this ship. Of course, being this close to the sickness and breathing the foul air means we’re probably already infected.
